by Cathryn Cade
He shrugged. “Guess that’d be okay, wouldn’t it? Plenty of room on Frontiera for them to roam wild and free for a while.”
“They have families waiting somewhere,” she said. “Although, God knows where.”
“Then we’ll help them search,” he told her. And then he shut her up with a deep, wet kiss, and lowered her to the big bed.
And neither of them said anything for a long time.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Frontieran Plains, a few days later …
Ilya dropped her duffel on the floor of their tont and then threw out her arms, twirling around in dizzying pleasure. “We’re home, Var. Home.”
She twirled once more and then turned to give him a smile over her shoulder. “Wanna help me re-christen our bed?”
He didn’t answer, just stood inside the open flap, not just still but rigid. Unease shot through her happy glow, and she turned to him fully. “Var? Honey what is it? What’s wrong?”
He moved his head to one side and then back. Her stomach dropped—that was his ‘unhappy, don’t wanna talk about this’ move. He rarely used it, maybe that’s why she remembered it so well.
She walked toward him. To her shock, he put one hand up, palm out, to stop her before she reached him. That’s when she noticed he hadn’t dropped his duffel on the floor. It still hung over his shoulder and he had a white-knuckled grip on it.
“Ilya …” he said. “I’m not staying.”
Ilya reeled as if he’d punched her in the belly. His words echoing in her ears, she gaped at him. But his words still made no sense.
“What d’you mean, you’re not staying?” she asked. Her voice shook, but for once she didn’t care about showing weakness.
He gazed at her stoically, his face in shadow against the bright afternoon sunshine. Slowly, as if tracking prey, she moved sideways in a semi-circle around him until she stood on the other side of the open flap. He turned his face to follow her, and at the look of blank stoicism there, her heart nearly stopped.
“I mean, I’m gonna bunk in Stark’s empty tont,” he said. “I just … need some time.”
“You need some time,” she repeated. She licked her dry lips and tried again to understand. “Time for what?”
He looked away, into the shadows. “Just … time to get my feet under me again. Get used to being out here. Time alone.”
She flinched, her head jerking to one side. “What, you think I’m gonna be on you every sec—that you can’t just say to me ‘Ilya, I’m gonna head out for the afternoon, or the day.’ Hells, even overnight if you want?”
He shook his head once, but then shrugged. “Okay, maybe. Anyway, I’ll be in camp. We can … spend time together.”
“Oh, we can?” she asked. She nodded jerkily. “That’s … that’s just great. That’s what I’ve been dreaming about for the last three fucking months, Var Garroc. Yeah, that’s why I spent the last weeks tearing that floating hell-hole apart. ‘Cause every night before I downed enough whisky so I could sleep without you by my side, I thought to myself, ‘Hey, sure wish I could see my husband around camp once in a while. Wish I could lie here in this big bed alone and wonder who he’s fucking across camp!”
His jaw was set like cerametal, his body rigid, but he still refused to look at her.
“Is … is that it?” she whispered. “Did you … I mean, I know you were with a lot of—”
“No, that’s not it,” he bellowed, his voice blasting her ears. With a violent motion, he hurled his duffel across the tont. It struck one of the soft walls, and the structure shook under the impact.
He paced into the tont and then turned on her, his eyes blazing in his flushed face. “You wanna know why, Ilya? Because I can’t trust myself, that’s why. I’m … I’m afraid I’ll go off and hurt you, like I did on the station. I almost killed you. D’you have any fuckin’ idea how that makes me feel? Do you? No, ‘cause you’ve never done anything like that, and you never will.”
Whatever he expected, it probably wasn’t for her to laugh in his face.
But a hysterical snicker burst from Ilya’s throat, and then she gave in and threw back her head and laughed.
“Th-that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth,” she told him, her voice still shaking. She shook her head and then advanced on him, placing her hands on his broad chest.
“Wanna know why Joran Stark is so pissed at me I’ll be lucky if he ever speaks to me again in this life?” she asked.
He shrugged irritably. “Reckon you’re gonna tell me whether I do or not.”
“I am,” she said. “Hey, how about a cold ale while we talk?” She reached into the refrig unit and pulled out two biodegradable bottles and tossed him one, then bit the soft top off the other and took a drink. Var looked at the ale in his hand, shook his head, then bit off the top and took a long pull himself.
She curled gracefully on the corner of one of the big divans, and began to talk.
When she was finished, he was staring at her as if he’d never seen her before. She waited, holding her breath. Then, just when she was ready to give up, give in to the hot, aching tears that threatened, he shook his head, his mouth turning up in a wry grin.
“Ilya Mondas, you should be ashamed,” he said, and drained his ale. She hopped up to fetch him another.
“I wasn’t,” she confided, “Until I realized I’d hurt Zaë as well as Stark. Just saying … you can go and live in his tont if you want, but you may wanna sleep with one ear open. In case I go off again. I may not be able to control myself.”
He sighed, and let his head drop back, resting on the comfy back of the skrog leather divan. “Not getting away from you so easily, am I?”
She drew in a breath and hiccupped on it, then turned her head to swipe her wet eyes where he couldn’t see. “Nope.”
“Ah, baby,” he groaned. “Don’t cry. You know I can’t take it when you do that.”
She sniffed loudly. “I’m not crying. I never cry.”
“Right. Well, c’mere and ‘not cry’ on me, okay?”
He pulled her onto his lap and cradled her close, kissing the top of her head. “I’m sorry, baby. I just—the thought of hurting you again, makes me wanna puke my guts out.”
“You won’t,” she told him, holding onto him fiercely. “You’re away from the Palace, away from him—and you can just walk out of here anytime you need to and go fight a catamount or something—or toss skrogs around.”
He snorted, his chest heaving under her. “Baby. I’m not that strong.”
She hiccupped again. “You’re close enough. And I love you exactly the way you are, just like you do me. Always have, always will, no matter what.”
He tightened his grip, carefully, and kissed her. “Okay, little star. You and me, no matter what. Now will you stop crying?”
“No,” she said miserably. “Because I feel terrible. You’re worried about your temper, and you’ve always been so sweet to me. You’re the calmest, most even-tempered man I’ve ever met.”
“Baby, I just got through telling you I’m not—not anymore. Compared to me, you’re a sweet little mawwr.”
She shook her head. “No, you don't get it. That day, before you left to fly out here with Stark and the others, to head to the Palace and confront Vadyal? I—I was pissed because you wouldn’t take me with you, so I was a bitch to you. And you tried to kiss me goodbye, but I—I wouldn't let you. So you ... left. And then you—I thought you were dead. And the last thing you saw of me was me being a bitch.”
She sniffed loudly, and swiped her wet face on his sleeve. “You were right, what you said before. I'm no good for you—I'm too mean, too angry. You should go and find some other woman, one who's sweet and calm and—and all that shit.”
Var didn’t answer right away. He stared at nothing, his heavy brows drawn together.
“I don't remember that day,” he said slowly. “None of it. The techs say I likely never will.”
Then he focused
on her, and lifted one huge hand to cup her face. “But Ilya, I remember other days. Days when you made me so happy, just being with you. Watching my little star shine her bright, fierce light.”
Her eyes widened, her lips parted in surprise. “You ... you remember that?” His pet name for her.
“Of course I do,” he said. “Man doesn't forget the best thing ever to happen to him. When he's drifting along, got friends and plenty of credit and some fine times, but plenty of times when he's so lonely he aches inside. Then one night he walks into a bar, just to have a drink or two, maybe some female company. And there she is—the prettiest little blonde he's ever seen. And she smiles at him, and says to him, 'What'll it be, big guy?' in a voice that sends shivers down through him. And he knows he'll never be alone again.”
She flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and hanging on for dear life. “Var,” she wept. “Var. You're really, really back, all the way. My Var.”
His arms wrapped around her, powerful and yet gentle, the safest place in the galaxy. “I'm back. And I'll never leave you again—swear it, my star. My Ilya.”
* * *
That evening …
The members of the band, along with their three new additions, who had been christened Big Dare, Ace and Ton by the pirates, all of whom refused to call any being by titles that sounded as if they belonged on a parts bot, all lounged around a big campfire that night after the barbecue to celebrate Var’s return. Vadyal’s whisky was flowing freely, along with his fine wines for the women.
Var was telling them all a story about Ace and Ton getting tangled up in their kilts during a mock battle, when the scream of a big cruiser slowing overhead drowned his deep voice out.
He reached for his laser, but Ryder put out a hand. “Relax, man. This is someone you wanna see.”
The cruiser set down carefully just outside camp, the wash aimed away from the ring of tonts. Then the hatch of the cruiser opened, and a tall, lean man stepped out. He paused only to hand down a small, slender woman, then the two of them hurried into the firelight.
Joran Stark faced Var across the fire. Stark’s face contracted, and his eyes shone glassy in the firelight.
“Var,” he said, his voice cracking. “Var—it really is you. I couldn’t believe it until I saw you myself.”
Var rose, and the two men met in the middle. Var simply opened his arms, and they embraced, hugging hard and slapping each other’s backs, rocking from side to side. Ilya watched with tears in her eyes, and she saw Zae swiping tears away too.
“I’m sorry,” Joran Stark said, first to Var, and then Ilya, his gaze finding her. “I’m so sorry. My fault –your ordeal, and that you two were separated.”
“Hey,” Var said, pulling back, scowling. “You saying I had no voice in the decision to go with you that day? I’m a free man, and don’t you forget it.”
Stark looked at him, and then nodded, his handsome face easing into a grin. “True words, my friend. And I’ll say, your time there does look like it agreed with you. Shit, you’re even bigger than before.”
Var snorted. “Wait till you meet my buddies over here. Now they’re big.”
“All right,” Ryder called, waving his bottle. “Let’s get this party back in warp speed. Ladies, where are you?” The two waitresses from the Palace, now clad in brief garments of their own, hurried to his sides.
Ilya rolled her eyes, and went to join Zae and the other wives. “Some things never change around here.”
* * *
Author’s Note: Thanks so much for reading Var and Ilya’s story. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please consider leaving an honest review so other readers can find the books.
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Cyber-hugs,
Cathryn
* * *
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Cathryn Cade lives and writes in the beautiful lake country of North Idaho. When she’s not tossing hot alpha heroes after feisty heroines, she loves to quilt with colors as wild as her characters, read, and chat on Facebook.
She and her own alpha male enjoy bicycling, hiking, gardening, trying new brew pubs and spending time
on their boat.
Copper the golden retriever keeps her company as she writes. He tried critiquing for her, but he was too kind, so she gave him a dog treat and fired him.
